


Three MCU WIP Amnesties

by Rubynye



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alcohol, Canon Disabled Character, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Scars, Shovel Talk, Sparring, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5813173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three MCU stories that I must regretfully admit I won't be finishing anytime soon: Peggy and Angie have Daniel over for an evening; Sam and Steve spar; Natasha drops in on Sam and Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At Least, Until Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I am especially sorry to give up on these, but sometimes one must admit that things won't happen. I hope what's here is good for a bit of amusement and a look at my process, at least.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel comes to call on Peggy and Angie.

At Least, Until Tomorrow

 

Daniel comes to call on Peggy and Angie.

Summary: Daniel's plans are about to be completely and thoroughly derailed, to his  
everlasting gladness.

Title from "I'll Never Fall In Love Again"

 

When Agent Daniel Sousa steps off the elevator, carefully balancing a colorful bouquet in his elbow, and faces the ornate doors of Peggy's apartment, his plan is to ask her out for a walk in the warm September evening. His hope is that by the time night falls he'll have charmed her enough to invite him for an hour or two in her parlor, perhaps chaperoned b her adorable actress friend Angie. (He doesn't dare let himself hope, except at night in his narrow bed, for a few hours alone with Peggy. He doesn't let himself wish, except when he dreams.)

Daniel's plans are about to be completely and thoroughly derailed, to his everlasting gladness.

*** 

Angie opens the door, widens her big eyes, and tosses her curls as she calls over her shoulder, "Hey English, there's a Three Piece suit here! With a dreamboat inside!" Daniel just smiles at his shoes. He's given up protesting that he doesn't wear such suits -- how could he afford them -- he just likes the way a good vest balances his outfit. Angie's nicknaming will not be denied.

"Hi, Miss Angie," is all he says, handing over the flowers, watching her expressive face as she cries out over them and hugs them like a baby, doing a full spin.

"Come in, come in," she tosses over her shoulder as she scampers off with the bouquet. "See if you can spot how we changed things!" Knocking the door shut with his crutch, Daniel looks around at the opulent sitting room. He's been here before, and finds a few more reflections of Peggy and Angie which make him smile: a pink and brown armchair pushed into the corner with a lamp crooked over it and a green-bound book resting on its seat; a garishly patterned, slightly tattered quilt draped over the little couch beside the phone; a row of framed photos on the ornate marble mantel.

One of the pictures catches his eye, of a delicately built young man squinting into the sunlight. Tugged by strange familiarity, Daniel heads over to look more closely, at the light hair and thick eyebrows, the white teeshirt and dog tags of basic training, the squared shoulders, thin arms and neck, and again at those mysteriously familiar eyes and slightly crooked nose.

Daniel has seen those eyes and nose before, set above a lantern jaw and shaded by a leather-gloved hand, as Captain Rogers looked up from the gate he'd broken open, and the men hurrying through it, and frowned thoughtfully at the sunrise. Daniel remembers glancing up as he limped one-footed, his arm over his buddy Cale's shoulders, shivering because his jacket was tied up tight around his shattered leg. Daniel looked up and Captain America looked back down, giving them a heartening smile that rekindled the fire in Daniel's chest. Cale's arm tightened around his waist, he dug his heel more firmly into the icy mud, and they kept pace with the fleeing soldiers around them as the air began to pop with gunfire and the pursuing guards shouted until they screamed. Some of the guys glanced back and cheered, calling out descriptions of how Captain America was crushing the enemy behind them, but Daniel and Cale just clutched each other as they hobbled and panted through their escape from captivity and likely death, rescued by Captain Rogers, struggling back towards life.

Both the last letter Cale sent after Daniel was shipped back stateside, and the note Cale's wife Melissa wrote to say he'd been killed in Poland, mentioned that moment.

"This is Rogers," Daniel says, all the force of realization behind his words. "Steven Rogers, before they made him Captain America."

"Indeed," Peggy says, crossing the room, her smile tight with memory and grief. Daniel takes a step towards her, holding out his arm, and as she presses her crinkled forehead into his shoulder and her strong arms around his sides he thanks his lucky stars she's honored him with her trust, enough to accept a little comfort from him.

Much too soon Peggy steps back, her forehead smoothed and her eyes clearer, and Daniel of course lets go. She's kissed him before, two goodnights and one hello and once when he was clever, but she doesn't kiss him now. Instead she smiles, lush and bright, and he manages a bashful smile in return and a rather inadequate, "Hi."

"Daniel," she answers, the full light of her beautiful dark eyes on him for a moment before she reaches to pick up the photo. "I worked on Project Rebirth. When Dr. Erskine asked my judgment of the candidates I ranked Steve in the highest category. He told me Steve was his first choice as well." She looks at the picture a moment, her eyes shining, before setting it back precisely in its place. "I think this was taken the day he jumped on the grenade."

"A grenade!" Daniel echoes incredulously, and when Peggy looks up again amusement dimples her cheek.

"A fake grenade," she clarifies, tucking her hand beneath Daniel's arm as she leads him across to her favorite of the several sofas. "And real courage." As they sit she adds, "he was much like you in several ways," and Daniel's heart skips a shocked beat. Her smile turns sly and his heartbeat skips again. "He also once accused me of being involved with Howard Stark."

"What did you do?" Daniel manages not to stammer.

"I shot at him four times," Peggy tells him, and Angie laughs as she comes back, carrying the flowers in a clear glass vase. Daniel's mouth falls open in surrender and Peggy adds lightly, "We did need to test his shield."

"I -- I guess I got off lightly." Daniel nods, chastened. "I'll remember that."

From behind them Angie comments, "You'd better, Three Piece," as Peggy smiles brilliantly until warmth prickles his cheeks. 

Another memory lurches up. Looking down at his hands resting on his leg, Daniel slowly adds, "Krzeminski said once, he was trying to give me his best advice when he said it. He told me you wouldn't want a guy without a leg after having been involved with Captain America."

In unison, Peggy and Angie shout an angry, "Oh!", and Daniel smiles at his hands. "From beyond the grave!" Peggy snaps.

"What a fathead!" Angie adds, dropping onto the couch beside Peggy, leaning across to grab Daniel's hand with both of hers.

He looks up then, as Angie squeezes his hand between hers, into Peggy's blazing eyes as she answers, "I met Steve, he impressed me, he attracted me, all before, _without_ his transformation. I always loved him best for all the ways he didn't change." Angie lets go and Peggy takes Daniel's hand, threading her fingers between his. "Ray Krzeminski, ugh. Not to speak ill of the dead, but --"

"He's a fathead," Angie finishes decisively. "And you're a dreamboat."

Warmth lofts Daniel's heart and pushes into his cheeks and over his ears, and he looks down again a moment before he can look at these incandescent women again. "Thank you," he tells them both, watching Peggy smile as she squeezes his hand, watching Angie tuck her cheek to Peggy's and smile at both of them.

* ***** * 

"If you'll excuse me," Peggy says, a little later, as she stands up. "I'll be right back." She walks away beautifully, with a decisive rolling stride, and Daniel only realizes he was staring when Angie's bare feet land in his lap.

They're beautiful too, long and arched below finely formed ankles and sleek calves, and even with his jacket off Daniel's much too warm. He pulls his gaze from Angie's legs, glancing up to find her watching him with clear eyes, imperious as a cat. She wiggles her toes, and he smiles, taking the hint, and gets to work, cradling her heel in his palm as he starts rubbing. She drops her head back onto the sofa's arm, and he smiles a little wider as he watches her relax all over.

"Peg told me what happened, you know," Angie says evenly, "after you all arrested her." Not the conversational turn he was expecting, but maybe he should've. "She told me all about what _you_ said, word for word." Daniel doesn't' let himself wince, nods and keeps rubbing and listening. "So I'm telling you now, that was your one fuckup." Even so, he blinks in surprise at the sweet-voiced curse, his hands moving automatically onwards; his thumb digs into the ball of Angie's foot, and she pauses to let the profanity sink in, takes a deep breath and groans theatrically. Of course. "Mmm, there," she encourages in a deep rapturous voice, then lifts her head, staring straight at him, her face perfectly controlled, her voice even again. "Now we both know she's a big girl, but everyone needs someone to have their back, and I'm the girl lucky enough to have Peg's. So if you ever hurt her again, Daniel Sousa, federal agent or no, I'll cut you off at _both_ knees."

Daniel freezes, as much at his actual name from Angie the Nicknamer as from the loving threat. Dropping her head again, she prods, "did I tell you to stop?" in a drippingly lush voice that tangles arousal with awe. Not for the first time Daniel wonders what he's gotten himself into.

He obediently starts his hands again, rubbing Angie's instep. "If I ever hurt Peggy I'll hand you the knife myself," is both appropriate and true, and wins Angie's approving hum. "I've messed up twice too many," he continues, thinking of the poison-green haze of fury that overtook him in the devastated theater, how he'd carelessly thwacked her when she tried to keep him from strangling Thompson. "I never intend to again, if I can help it. With God's help. And yours, Angie."

Angie doesn't lift her head again, but she smiles, and purrs, "Attaboy."

"I leave the room for one moment," Peggy says from the doorway, and Angie's smile widens to a grin. Daniel looks over and his jaw almost drops: Peggy's new outfit is a clinging soft gray dress made of some unbearably tactile-looking material. "And here you are, Angie, taking advantage of our guest!" She strolls back to them, the dress swinging around her thighs, and Daniel's mouth goes dry.

"Shamelessly," is both Angie's comment and her attitude as she wiggles, pushing her foot into Daniel's hold. 

"Evidently." Peggy pauses in front of them, hands on curvaceous hips, mouth pursed and a smile tucked into her cheek. Daniel looks up helplessly into her sparkling brown eyes, and she lets the smile onto her mouth, sideways and saucy. "When you're done being indulged, go pick a bottle for us."

"Yes ma'am," Angie purrs, and Peggy glances at her, eyebrows tilting fondly, spins and sits beside Daniel, soft silk brushing his wrist and draping his leg. "Rigth away, English," she adds, and slumps a little further onto the couch.

Peggy snorts delicately and leans in, brushing her lips across Daniel's ear as she whispers, "Thank you. She's had a long day, a full shift and two auditions."

Daniel nods. He couldn't speak if he tried. Peggy sits tucked to his side, warm and deceptively soft, and Angie points her toes and groans fit to make hm blush, and he's much, much too hot under the collar. Perfectly too hot. Peggy skims her lips along his cheekbone, softer and silkier than her dress, and he's been shot and punched and blown up by a mine without blubbering but now he can't restrain a happy little shudder.

"All right, Three Piece, you pass muster." Angie swings her feet out of Daniel's lap. "Let's go see what I can dig out of that lovely bar Mr. Stark left us." She bounces to her feet and whirls off, and Daniel sits back a little, thinking of crossing his legs before he embarrasses himself, wondering if he dares lean a little into Peggy.

Peggy answers both questions by throwing her legs across his lap and leaning into him, warm and tender and solid beneath. Daniel looks at her and she looks up at him across the curve of her forehead, eyebrows lifted in two finely drawn arches, lips parting as she smiles. Her curls look so soft and inviting, her mouth tender and sweet, and his finger ache to sink into her hair, to pull her into a rougher kiss than he's dared yet, to never let go.

Daniel grips the cushion beside his hip and smiles shakily back.

Angie returns, carrying a bottle of amber whiskey in one hand, three tumblers in the other. "This looks good," she announces, plumping down on Daniel's other side, setting two glasses in his hand. "Can't pronounce it, but I bet it drinks nicely."

Peggy sits up a little to look over. "Whisky, Angie? At this hour?"

"Aww, English, live a little," Angie answers, already sloshing a generous pour into the first tumbler. Peggy sighs elaborately, catching Daniel's eyes again, lifting an entreating eyebrow."

He finds his voice then, tipping his head back against the chair, and starts laughing.

* ***** * 

Some time later the bottle twinkles from the floor, a few golden inches left inside it. Daniel glances up through the low amber light, feeling the syrupy air eddy in the dip of his throat and swirl across his bared forearms. Langorous music drips from the phonograph, his vest and tie drape the hassock's edge, and Peggy and Angie dance slowly inside an invisible circle, fingers meshed gracefully, cheek pressed to silken cheek.

Daniel watches them, his thoughts flowing like honey, sodden and sluggish with the sweet whiskey. He watches Angie's arm wrap across Peggy's shoulders and Peggy's hand curve behind Angie's waist and the lift and turn of their beautiful calves and bare feet as they slowly sway and spin, moving in unison to the music.

He, Daniel realizes, is an idiot. He sees it all in one flash, like he did when he saw the familiar pair of scars on Peggy's shoulder, like he did in midair as the mine blew him back, realizing before he hit the ground that if the path was mined the enemy was waiting. He understands what he should've seen long before, as Angie sighs softly and Peggy pulls her in a little tighter, and an audible "Oh," falls out of his stupid mouth.

Peggy glances back over her shoulder, hair swinging away from her alert face. Angie's wide eyes open, she picks her head up just enough to tilt her gaze sideways at Peggy, their eyes meeting in a wordless communique that makes Daniel shiver with a hot-cold thrill, his spine stiffening against the too-soft sofa. Smile sharp and red, Peggy whirls Angie out of her hold, who flashes all her bright teeth as she steps forward, as they stalk towards him like lionesses in tandem, as he stares wide-eyed up at them until they pounce.

Peggy kisses him first, as their arms wrap around him from both sides. Angie chuckles, lips and nose pressed to his cheek, sliding down his jaw, and he bares his throat to her, tilting his head back, yielding to Peggy's kiss. She kisses him like she never has before, her fingers curling into his open collar as her tongue strokes boldly over his. His arms have wrapped around both their waists and as Peggy pulls back with the hottest scrape of teeth Angie pushes up, smacking kisses all over his gasping mouth and Daniel's already overwhelmed. Peggy's fingers leave his throat and curl around his wrist, and he freezes, panting against Angie's lips, wondering if he's gone too far --

She deliberately tugs his hand down, over the generous, glorious curve of her ass, chuckling into Angie's cheek as she kisses her over his mouth and then kisses him again. All Daniel can do is moan, into Peggy's kiss, fitting his hand to the plush firmness of her ass. He wants to fill both hands with her, to stroke her skirt and girdle and underthings away and map every silky round of flesh with worshipful fingertips. And Angie's waist flexes in the crook of his other arm and he can only wind it tighter as she pushes Peggy away with a kiss and smooches him for a long sweet moment. 

 

[Angie makes Peggy say it and Peggy explicitly invites him in]. They pull back to let him breathe, ask him what he thinks. He says he wouldn't want to take advantage. Peggy says, "I want you to know I'm in full control of my faculties" and then undresses showily, doing a spin as she pulls her dress over her head. Peggy and Angie kiss Daniel and get him up and to Peggy's bedroom (immaculate sheets and clothes hung up.) They say "we sleep across the hall" 

Shoes kicked off. Clothes start coming off and necking commences. Scene change.

 

[Put Daniel worrying about embarrassing himself and Peggy telling him he can make it, they're in for the long haul. ]

Scene change. Peggy has the most beautiful breasts: describe, Daniel's face between them, Angie says to Peggy, "I told ya, he's a tit guy." They had a bet. Peggy sits up and Daniel wraps his arms around her, asks her not to move. She peels his arms off, says "hush" and "you'll do as you're told" and "help me hold Angie up, you're not to climax before she does," Angie laughs. Daniel had worried that he'd embarrass himself but braces himself on Peggy's bossiness. Peggy sits on Daniel, reverse cowgirl, and he kisses her scars while she kisses and strokes Angie. Angie puts arms around them both and Daniel holds her up. When Angie' had enough she slumps beside them and Peggy pushes Daniel onto his back. Angie holds Daniel [see below], Peggy says "now you can touch me," and rides him to orgasm.

Daniel watching Peggy and Angie trade near-telepathic looks as they share him. Using him as a bolster and riding him for their own satisfaction. [or, mostly Peggy. Angie likes being kissed and touched but not stuff inside.] And when they team up on him -- ! Lots of fingers and full body contact and mouths above the waist. 

Daniel (still in his pants) plants his feet in the mattress for leverage. It's lopsided motion but Peggy seems ot like it. Angie holds his shoulders down and says "Lie still you big lug and let Peggy ravish you." Peggy rolls her eyes and says "Angie" and Angie says, "look at him, he totally wants you to have your wicked English way with him." Peggy says "well I want someone to touch me" and Angie says, "we can do that, hey, Three Piece?" and they do.

Then he gets to come. Peggy kneels up off him, holding Angie in her arms, and lies down in the curve of his arm. Three way kisses and leaning Angie back on Daniel's chest as Peggy pushes her hair back and goes down on Angie until she screams. 

Afterwards, peeling off his pants, all their clothes, discussion of scars, etc. tucking him into the middle. Sleeping naked, he hasn't done that with anyone else since the war.

Angie goes to take a bath and to leave them alone. They talk: 

Note Daniel having apologized to Peggy about how he doubted her, the madonna/whore thing. (he took her out for drinks and apologized) her mulling and accepting.

In the past Peggy had asked Daniel "What do you want from me?" He thought he kenw the answer to that when a woman asks, "whatever you want to give me," but he should remember how singular a woman, a person, Peggy is. She tells him her heart has prior claims on it, but if he would, she will share it with him. Daniel goes "!!!" and Peggy tells him that if one's going to have more than one lover, make sure they get along. An old friend taught her that.

Middle of night Daniel wakes up hard. Peggy goes down on him, puts two fingers inside him, which he reacts to with a lot of !!!. (She says she liked having him inside her, wants to return the favor) Stroking behind knee/knee stump Remember scars of his leg all the way up.

In early morning Angie wakes him by climbing back in. Angie leaning on Daniel's back as they watch Peggy sleep. Angie says she's amazing. Daniel agrees, compliments Angie. She preens and thanks him and says, "but I'm not who you're here for, Three Piece. You're here for her and she's worth it." Daniel agrees. After Angie snuggles down to sleep Peggy kicks him gently, indicating she was awake the whole tme.

Full morning, water add headaches and cheer. [Sleepy lazy Round 3. figure out choreography. Maybe with Peggy in the middle, fingers in Angie and Daniel in her from behind and Angie's fingers too. (maybe put Round 2 choreography here instead. Microtext copy: Round 2, pillows tucked behind him to sit him up. Peggy sits on him, reverse cowgirl, and he gets to kiss her scars while Angie kisses her front and strokes her and says, "don't you dare come yet, Three Piece," until Peggy's come at least twice more. Then he gets to come. Peggy kneels up off him, holding Angie in her arms, and lies down in the curve of his arm. Three way kisses and leaning Angie back on Daniel's chest as Peggy pushes her hair back and goes down on Angie until she screams. )] Or maybe just kisses and cuddles.

Peggy's morning calisthenics. Angie props head on hand and watches. Daniel just watches and is wowed. Angie shuts his mouth for him. Describe Peggy bouncing lavishly.

Breakfast and cheer. "Maybe you can come back sometime" is their arch cheerful judgment . Kissing him goodbye and he strolls out into the morning sunshine. 

 

Things to include:

samalander's characterization here:  
http://intosnarkness.tumblr.com/post/112050983361


	2. Spirit Carry Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve spar.

Spirit Carry Me 

 

For such a clean man, Steve Rogers fights surprisingly dirty. Not cruel, never, Sam knows, even when he's panting and a little winded as he and Steve circle each other sideways. But Steve knows the weapon of his body and he goes after weaknesses, lunging towards Sam's sore left side where he got in a solid knee to Sam's ribs. Sam twists away barely in time, skipping back as far as he can; Steve's eyes glint gas-flame blue as he grins, head lowered, broad shoulders squared, not even breathing hard, the gorgeous asshole. 

_Focus_ , Sam thinks, making himself concentrate on the danger in every handsome line of Steve's frame, trying to analyze Steve's shifting posture. He's gonna try to tackle Sam -- first one to the mat is the other's prize -- or, no, maybe not. Sam rushes in, going for broke, and yeah, Steve ducks lower, he's actually planning to toss Sam and ground him that way. 

Fortunately, Sam knows how to fly. He puts his all into grabbing Steve's collar (ignore the heat of his broad hands, ignore that surprised little choke), into twisting just right to turn momentum into rotation so he slams with Steve's own force into his back (ignore that stagger), legs up and wide enough to hook Steve's elbows with his knees. It takes everything he's got to pull against those corded muscles, but he hauls Steve's arms back and gets an elbow across his throat, riding Steve (not the way he wants to), dragging him off-balance so the next stumbling step sends Steve down on one knee.

Steve grunts (Sam can _feel_ it vibrate through Steve's back, under his ass) as he pitches forward, trying to shake Sam off, but it's not hard to find motivation to cling. Sam adds his other arm around Steve's neck, up out of reach of big grabby hands, pulls his heels back and hangs on. If he had breath he might say, "whoa" and make some kind of horse-related joke, but his left obliques throb and he's trying to make _Captain America_ say Uncle, so he saves his wind and holds on tight.

Steve shudders all over, and Sam has to bite his lip between gasps. There are a half dozen moves he could pull that Sam can think of, let alone the ones he can't, but this is a spar, not a battle. So Sam hangs on, and Steve slowly, deliberately lowers his other knee to the mat. "Okay," Steve puffs, extra point to Sam for stealing his breath. "Okay, I give."

Sam doesn't have the air for a smartass comment, he just gives a little whoop and presses an openmouthed kiss to Steve's ear as he eases his legs up, letting Steve have his arms back. Steve pats Sam's knees, then plants his palms on the floor, lowering himself with showy grace, considering Sam's still sitting on him. Sam huffs, impressed and irritated, and he really is going to say something snappy except that Steve rolls a quarter turn under him, facing Sam with that tilted smirk just as Sam finds his arms and legs wrapped around Steve's warm solidity. Really, he can snark anytime. Now, he grins back and leans in to claim his prize.

Steve meets him hard, slamming their mouths together so the kiss burns sweetly. Sam laughs breathlessly and bites Steve's lip, Steve grips his biceps and bites him back, and it is _on_. At night Steve tends to be deliberate, usually gentle, a little too mindful of his own strength. Right now, his blood up, Steve shoves Sam over onto his back and his tongue into Sam's mouth, a wall of muscle surging over him. _Storming me like a castle_ Sam thinks, and _hey who won here!_ and pushes into Steve's roll, tumbling them right back over. Steve' shouts, open-throated, and it's tonsil hockey and another push as they keep rolling, grappling, clutching each other till they fetch up in the corner, Sam mostly on top, Steve already thrusting up against his thigh.

 

[describe how ungently Steve kisses right now, Sam knows his blood is surging as wildly as Steve's 

 

Necking on floor, Sam pulls Steve up and says, "let's go to bed," Steve says, "what about right here" and scoots up against the wall. Sam says, "I'm not sure Stark wants this in his workout room." Steve points out the cameras and says, "want to be watched?" nd when Sam says "no" Steve breaks one with a thrown object - keychain- and they're not in range of the other two. Sam asks, "What would you have done if I'd said yes?" and Steve says, "Protested my maidenly modesty," and kisses him.

Remember to mention Sam's bruised side every so often.

Sam pushes hands up under Steve's shirt and tweaks Steve's nipples till Steve is whimpering, kisses down his abs and sucks him.

"Hands on the wall, soldier," and hears Steve's palms smack the paneling.

Note Sam's joy of Steve's gorgeous body. Pecs, nipples, abs, cut of hip, ass, long hard thighs, big gorgeous uncut cock.

After blow job Steve pulls Sam to him and says there's lube in the workout bag and Sam glares at Steve and Steve says Sam won the spar fair and square. Sam fingers Steve until he comes again, and then fucks him, facing each other, a towel under Steve's back as a pillow, holding out until Steve comes once more for him. Don't forget nipples! Steve groaning low, so deep Sam can feel the vibrations of it.

Steve arches back, clutching the mat above his head, and Sam just glories in his gorgeousness. Have Steve come three times, because.

In afterglow, Steve digs his fingers into Sam's bruised ribs and rubs them. Then picks him up.

[afterwards Steve picks Sam up; Sam's feet leave the ground just like flying. Sam says "oh, that is not fair." Steve says, "come on, big fella" and Sam says, "you can't call me big guy while carrying me, I know that's against the rules."

 

dedicate to azephirin and samalander

 

Sam analyzing Steve's fighting style and ruthlessness, ending with how he's sweaty, his left obliques throb, and he's fucking exhilarated.

Sam ignores Steve's feint and goes up, so Steve tosses him, but he knows how to fly; he flips, grabbing Steve's shirt, turning momentum into rotation to slam onto Steve's back, and gets his legs over STeve's arms.

Steve goes to his knees, and tries to throw Sam off. It's not hard to want to hold onto Steve. Then he concedes, and Sam wiggles around atop him and kisses him. Necking on floor, steve gets up and says, "take me to bed," Sam says, "what if I want you right here" and backs him up against the wall.

"Hands on the wall, soldier," and hears Steve's palms smack the painted paneling.

 

 

[afterwards/in the middle of second blow job Steve picks Sam up; Sam's feet leave the ground just like flying. Sam says "oh, that is not fair." Steve says, "come on, big fella" and Sam says, "you can't call me big guy while carrying me, I know that's against the rules."

 

dedicate to azephirin and samalander

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1430668

http://stereowire.tumblr.com/post/82671282408/get-some-buckyyyyyyy

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1655417

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2118603

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2129682

what C.E. looks like orgasming:  
http://azephirin.tumblr.com/post/85685498589/hobbitkaiju-dixie-chicken-whitelaws-oh


	3. Hear the Bugler Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha drops in on Sam and Steve.

Refocus to post-AOU -- Sam and Nat talk about Bucky and Banner, among others

 

Hear the Bugler Call

Warnings: drugged sex, fully consensual

 

What wakes Sam isn't quite a sound. A shift in air pressure, a vibration through the bed frame, a sixth sense kicking in: whatever it is, Sam wakes up all at once, curled on his side tucked to Steve's back. Steve's out, snoring softly under a triple dose of Vicodin; it's up to Sam to watch his back, to asses the threat, to ease one eye open slowly and peer past Steve's shoulder at the figure carefully climbing backwards through their supposedly alarmed bedroom window. Bent at the waist, the intruder cocks a shapely hip, and Sam realizes he's seen that curvaceous ass before; she ducks her head inside, reaching up with both hands to shut the window, and Sam recognizes that swing of hair as she turns on his windowsill as nimbly as on flat ground.

It's not that he relaxes, exactly, but a much nicer kind of tension displaces the alarm as he props himself up on his elbow and whispers, "Hey, pretty lady."

"Hey yourself, pretty bird." Natasha steps down off the windowsill, light as the proverbial feather, wearing a jacket and close-fitting sweater and pants. She's dressed for turning heads down a street, collecting glances and smiles in her wake, not for climbing through windows at 1:53 in the morning. Except that she is, because she's Natasha, and whatever she wears she's dressed to climb into their bed, toeing off her boots on the way, as Sam grins and watches the economical poetry of her motion. Wriggling up smoothly between them, Natasha leans back on Steve and settles nose-to-nose with Sam, giving him one of her little truthful smiles. 

Truthful-looking, anyway, but Sam can live with that. "How you doing?" he murmurs; she shrugs, draping her legs over his hip, and leans in for a gentle kiss. She tastes like sweet waxy lip balm and clean teeth, her clothed arm winding warm and strong around his bare one. "Everything good?" Sam murmurs over her full lips, more to show the concern than because he expects an answer.

Her "Yeah," actually voiced, startles him; his eyes flicker to find hers open, smile-crinkled at the corners, as she presses her hand to his shoulder blade, tugging him close for another kiss. This one is just as gentle, closed-mouthed, but longer; Sam follows Natasha's lead, warmed by her body tucked to his from lips to toes, and she pillows herself on Steve's shoulder and tips Sam atop her like a living blanket, quietly bossy in every sleek inch.

Still, he doesn't assume, not in general and absolutely not with her, and he gently pulls out of the kiss to use his words. "Mmm, hey," he murmurs into her chin, sliding his mouth along her smooth skin, feeling the shifting muscles as she chuckles dryly and slides her leg alongside his, catching the hem of his sleep pants with her toes. "On or off?" 

Natasha hums thoughtfully, relaxed enough to take her time deciding, and Sam kisses her beside her ear, because he's honored that he can. "Off," she decides; a sleek wriggle and she's sitting up before Sam's even persuaded his arms to let her go, her jacket sliding off her shoulders like a shed skin. "Get my pants?"

"Absolutely," he answers, and looks up to watch her smile right up until she pulls the sweater off overhead. He unzips and peels down the pants, taking her white panties with them, kissing as he works: the raised scar low on her belly, the thin line across her upper thigh, the dimpled dent above her knee. Each is tough and distinct from its surroundings, slick connective tissue rather than plush skin, and each time he kisses one Natasha breathes out a soft noise of amusement and fondness and hopefully a little happiness. 

Finally he reaches her beautiful ankles, wrapping his hand around one as he kisses just above the other heel, and she chuckles again, pointing her foot to drag her toes up the back of his neck. "You ruined my surprise," she tells him, almost giggling. 

Sam looks down at the cloth he was about to drop, pulls out the panties, and nearly laughs himself. The lace is patterned with wings, all around the waistband and arching up from the crotch. "You're terrible," he answers, tossing them carefully onto her pants, elbowing his way back up his bed as Natasha grins at him and Steve breathes slow and soft behind her. "I'm gonna find those widow spider print boxers one day, I promise you. Two pairs. _Three._ "

As she hooks her fingers in Sam's waistband, Natasha glances backwards, specifically at the dressing taped over Steve's side, and it's Sam's turn to shrug. "Clearing the last Hydra bolt hole we missed one. He covered me like he's bulletproof and got two slugs skipped across his ribs for his trouble. When I went to return fire the shooter already had a hole in his head, from behind." Her eyes widen, and Sam nods over a complexity of emotions. "Yeah. Makes the third time we've had mysterious backup." Not that they don't all know who that backup likely is, the mere thought brushing winter-wind chill down Sam's spine. Natasha's eyes are back to impassive, but under Sam's hand her skin tightens like goosebumps. "Hey, you warm enough? What can I get you?"

Natasha leans in a little, touching her forehead to Sam's, her hair tumbling rich and sweet around his face. "Go down on me?" she asks, her voice all smoke and honey.

Sam's mouth floods, he has to swallow hard before he can ask, "Can a guy get a kiss first?" Natasha grins at that, wide and gleaming, growls as she clamps her hands on his shoulders and rocks him onto his back, swallowing his "whoa" in a fierce deep plunge of a kiss, all tongue and teeth and sweet-tinged heat. Damn, she moves quick, and Sam knows from speed, reminded of the sky's irresistible sweep as she swings her leg across him and sits her plush ass right down on his cloth-bound dick, pressing down against its rise, chuckling into his mouth as he moans. Sam spares one foot, pushing it wide to press against Steve's broad arched sole, and throws the rest of himself into kissing her back, rocking his hips up to meet her wiggly little bounce, lifting his chin as she plunders his mouth, drags warm rounded breasts over his chest and digs sweet-sharp crescents into his shoulders.

Natasha's thighs tighten over Sam's hips, her hair sweeps his cheeks, but he still feels the waking awareness ripple through Steve down to his toes; Steve points them to poke Sam's instep, then sighs fake-quietly and heaves onto his back, groaning with effort. Natasha bursts out laughing, tingling over Sam's tongue as Steve moans a theatrically sleepy, "Wow," and he can't help but crack up too, the kiss breaking cheerfully. 

As she leans her forehead on his throat, breathing deep but easy, Natasha peels her hand from Sam's shoulder to reach over, and Steve sighs a much more honest little happy noise. "Look at that," Sam murmurs through Natasha's silky hair, "Sleeping Beauty woke up," and she actually giggles, low and sweet.

"Don't think so," Steve retorts in that same drowsy put-on voice. "Think I'm still dreaming."

 

Natasha says, "real smooth there, ROgers," and kisses him, and pushes him flat and leans back against his shoulder. she asks again with 'please' and he says 'since you asked nicely' Sam kisses her all over, throat and tits and belly and butt, lots of detail on her glorious body, and goes down on her. Note Sam's very pale paramours, Steve glow in the dark, Natasha translucent.

skin of her inner thighs firm and creamy

http://archiveofourown.org/works/94458   
story where I wrote some excellent cunnilingus

inspirational description bit stolen from another story:  
Natasha’s cunt is just divine. She’s got these plump lips that peel apart like a present, and her folds are pink, but turn rosy and engorged under Bucky’s tongue. Her clit is small, and very sensitive. She hates having it touched except by the barest flickers of Bucky’s tongue.  
term to use: a growl of laughter

Sex choreography: Sam and Nat make out, Steve wakes, Steve and Nat make out, Sam goes down on Nat as Steve kisses her (thnking about how Steve worries to him about who the real Nat is; Sam just takes whatever she gives him and enjoys it. -- use lacy to describe her pubes), Nat and Sam fuck while Steve watches, and Nat reaches over and jerks Steve off faster than he was doing it. Natasha says she's not going to fuck Steve because she'd open his stitches, makes him stay still, kisses him and tucks him into her breasts while Sam cuddles her and strokes Steve.

OR: if for porn battle: just Sam going down on Nat as she leans on Steve. Then sh pulls him up and tucks him between them for his turn. End porn battle submission there: scene change to conversation.

 

Steve winces after, Sam gives him another pair of Vicodin and a kiss, Steve hugs Nat and falls asleep. Sam and Nat make out and talk. Sam talks about how larger than life/amazing/whatnot Steve and Nat are vs ordinary him, and Nat says he's not ordinary. Nat tries to advise Sam not to be so giving and self effacing. "It's an easy way to die" "it's a good way to live"

What thy discuss: http://tmblr.co/Zg0f-x1NkcR1S  
Sam/Natasha parallel: soldier vs spy: http://intosnarkness.tumblr.com/post/93202083419

scene break to sleep, Nat climbing over to cuddle Steve

In the morning Sam's kitchen smells great and looks better. Steve's in jogging pants, Natasha's in pants and bra, drinking from blue coffee mugs, both are demolishing breakfast round 2 as Sam cooks round 3, when Clint climbs in the window.

Also, in the morning Clint shows up through the kitchen window while Sam is making breakfast (dish ideas welcome; Sam is too practicla to just make pancakes when feeding people with metabolisms like Steve's and Natasha's).

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1436017

Breakfast idea, provided by Gingi:

Soul/Southern food breakfast - veg cooked in bacon grease, eggs, bacon, corn flakes, milk, juice, grits.

 

 

mention making sure Sam's house stays unbugged -- it's good to have friends in the spy business.

 

http://sockich.tumblr.com/post/83527704879/dude-you-just-ran-like-13-miles-in-30-minutes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1258945

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1598828

From discussion with Dira about Sam:

Huh! Sam is so open and obvious to me, he's almost my Gary stu. He's like  
my fictional brother. he's Black and brave and hardworking and  
openhearted, he believes deeply in Steve but is willing to tell him what  
he needs to hear and not just what he wants to. And I KNOW that Steve said  
hi (well, "on your left") in part because of the fineness of Sam's ass,  
and Sam knows it too.

You know some other ways in which I see myself in Sam? He's recovering  
from PTSD and using that knowledge to illuminate his relationships. He is  
more eager than is healthy to attach his whole life to someone whose need  
of him lets him feel like he's doing something meaningful, even if/though  
it costs him. I think he's self-aware enough to know that about himself,  
like I do about myself. (How many people help raise someone else's  
children and pay for the privilege? But they need me, so I stay. How many  
people throw their whole lives over to go get shot at again? But Cap  
needed Falcon, so he went.)

Or, in other words, you are TOTALLY RIGHT and I intend to write about this  
aspect of Sam, not least as writing-as-therapy for my own damn self.  
*smiles ruefully* And I look forward to your writing about it too.


End file.
